The other women

Some very strained relations between the two book clubs in her life means that Sophie White has had to up her game with the food contributions

Ihad been a monogamous member of my book club for nearly seven years when the itch set in. Like many people who stray, I didn’t set out to cheat. It just happened. I wasn’t unhappy in my book club — quite the opposite, I am devoted to it. If anything, I just wanted more book club. Maybe we’d let the books go out of our book club somewhat, and when the opportunity to join another book club presented itself, I was caught in a moment of weakness.

I was obviously not vocal about the new book club with my old book club — the very fact that it has now been saddled with the

‘old’ moniker purely by dint of having been there first seems unfair even to me, but there it is.

Still, an inevitable showdown occurred. I was caught by the New Book Club literally in bed with the Old Book Club. Seriously. It was on the infamous pink leather bed in Krystle nightclub, where I was celebrating the launch of my second book and first novel, bestseller

Filter This (available in all good bookshops). My Old Book Club and I were posing in flagrante on the bed, imploring anyone in the vicinity to take our picture. Fate intervened, and two members of my New Book Club agreed to take the picture. I froze, willing the moment to pass before one party could discover the identity of the other. That is when Himself gleefully intercepted and announced mischievously, “Well, this is awkward! One book club face to face with the other.”

I wasn’t surprised. As my co-parent, he is obviously resentful of any and all of my extracurricular activities. I can’t hold this against him — I know that if he were to join a second golf club, I would do everything in my power to sabotage it, too.

The two book clubs squared off, but the moment mercifully passed peacefully. I was even a little disappointed that they were not all fighting over me a little more aggressively. Still, it seemed that they were all willing to share me in a kind of ‘book-loving sister-wives’ kind of way — until, that is, the inevitable happened. This month, each book club went and scheduled the meet-up for the exact same Friday night. Disaster.

After much coin-tossing and soul searching, I’ve decided the only solution is to attempt to go to both. I initially considered trying to attend both simultaneously like some cheesy sitcom plot, but with one in Dublin 8 and one in Dublin 4, it wasn’t going to happen without some kind of molecular transportation device, so instead I’m going to one early and one late. I’ll be bringing this delicious focaccia to each so that Old Book Club doesn’t notice I’m ducking out early, and New Book Club doesn’t smell Old Book Club on my clothes when I arrive late and flustered.

“As my co-parent, he is obviously resentful of any and all of my extracurricular activities”